<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>the one with the black sweater by viridae</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25521721">the one with the black sweater</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/viridae/pseuds/viridae'>viridae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Friendship, M/M, POV Outsider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:08:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25521721</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/viridae/pseuds/viridae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Neil had slept with someone.<br/>Allison wasn’t sure who, when, or where, but she did know one thing: she was going to figure it out. </p>
<p>loosely based off of the friends episode "the one with the red sweater"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>799</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the one with the black sweater</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>thank you <a href="/users/xominyard/">xominyard</a> for the beta, you're wonderful!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Allison narrowed her eyes as she watched Neil maneuver his way around their dorm kitchen. He kept his head down and barely looked at her, other than to say good morning, but Allison knew something was up. </p>
<p>Neil had slept with someone. </p>
<p>She wasn’t sure who, when, or where, but she did know one thing: she was going to figure it out. </p>
<p>“So,” Allison said, very unsubtly, “Who is it?”</p>
<p>Neil paused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said evasively.</p>
<p>Allison scoffed. “Come on. You haven’t slept in your room in a week. Who’s the girl?”</p>
<p>Neil grabbed a coffee mug from the cabinet and stubbornly refused to look in Allison’s direction. “There is no girl.” </p>
<p>“Fine, who’s the guy?”</p>
<p>“There is no guy,” Neil repeated, but the flush high on his cheeks was a dead giveaway. </p>
<p>“So there <em> is </em> a guy,” Allison said triumphantly. “Tell me about him. Is he tall? Short? Brunette? Blond? Does he go to PSU? Are you dating, or is it just a one time thing—”</p>
<p>“I’m not telling you anything,” Neil muttered. “Nothing is happening.”</p>
<p>Allison crossed her arms petulantly. Neil poured himself a cup of coffee and drank it black— disgusting— and pressed his lips together tightly. They had a silent but fierce staring contest until Allison’s contacts began to dry out and she had to blink to stop the itchiness. Neil didn’t say anything, but Allison felt the sting like a badge of shame. </p>
<p>“Tell me this,” Allison said eventually. “Is he at least good in bed?”</p>
<p>“Uh,” Neil stammered, at a loss for words, “I mean—”</p>
<p>Allison grinned. “That’s an answer enough for me.”</p>
<p>“Nothing is happening,” Neil insisted, a tad defensively. His cheeks turned redder. “It’s none of your business.”</p>
<p>“Come on, Neil,” Allison said, stretching out the syllables. “I won’t judge, I promise.”</p>
<p>“You know what?” Neil said, rather pointedly, “Even if there was someone, which there isn’t, I’m not going to tell you anything. You’ll just have to figure it out on your own.” </p>
<p>He poured the last dregs of his coffee down the sink, dropped the mug in, and then dramatically turned on his heel to leave. Allison scowled after him, her foot tapping. </p>
<p>If Neil wasn’t going to tell her, she was still going to figure it out. She was Allison freaking Reynolds, she won every bet she played. If she could wear stilettos for six days straight, she sure as hell could figure out who her best friend was dating. </p>
<p>And if Neil wasn’t going to tell her, there was one person who might. </p>
<hr/>
<p>“No,” Kevin Day said. “Absolutely not.”</p>
<p>He moved to slam the door in her face, but Allison stuck her foot in. “Come on,” she said, nearly pleading. “The pot is getting big. I’ll split my winnings with you.”</p>
<p>“There’s no names in the pot anyway,” Kevin said, supremely disdainful. “And you can stop asking me? Because I don’t know who it is.”</p>
<p>Allison threw her hands up in the air. “You spend every second of your day with him, and you can’t tell me who he’s fucking?”</p>
<p>“Neil doesn’t do hookups,” Kevin explained, with the air of someone who was teaching a toddler a new skill. “I don’t think he even knows what casual sex is. It’s not his thing.” </p>
<p>“Like you would know either,” Allison scoffed. </p>
<p>Kevin curled his lip. “Do you want me to help you or not?”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Allison said. “But I’m not going to stop making fun of you.”</p>
<p>Kevin scowled. “You are the worst.”</p>
<p>“I’m known for it,” Allison said flippantly. “That’s besides the point though. Do you know anything about Neil’s... friend with benefits?”</p>
<p>“Hm,” Kevin said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “There is one thing I know.”</p>
<p>Allison nearly punched the air. Finally, some good evidence to get them moving. </p>
<p>“Neil did bring someone back to his room about a month ago,” Kevin said. “I was passed out—”</p>
<p>“Drunk,” Allison interjected. </p>
<p>Kevin waved a hand, and continued. “The person left before I woke up, but they left behind one thing.”</p>
<p>With that, Kevin closed the door in her face dramatically. Allison frowned.</p>
<p>“So,” she said, to empty air, “Were you going to finish that story?”</p>
<p>Kevin returned a few seconds later with something in his hand. He held it out to Allison, who snatched it up and examined it. “They left behind a single black sweater.”</p>
<p>“Alexander McQueen,” Allison said approvingly. “Nice.” She passed it back to Kevin, who tossed it idly over their sofa. “So whoever Neil is dating, they own this sweater.”</p>
<p>“Unless Neil is seeing multiple people,” Kevin said thoughtfully. “But somehow I doubt that.”</p>
<p>“I can barely imagine Neil with one person, let alone two,” Allison said. “I feel like I’m living through a fever dream.”</p>
<p>“Whoever the guy is, he’s an absolute cryptid,” Kevin said. “Neil hasn’t even given me any hints. I have no idea.”</p>
<p>“Alright,” Allison said, rubbing her hands together schemingly. “Operation Black Sweater begins now.”</p>
<p>Kevin eyed her skeptically. “What are you going to do, ask every person on campus if they own a sweater?” </p>
<p>“No,” Allison declared, eyes lighting up. “I’m going straight to the source.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Six doors down the hall lived Matt Boyd, Neil’s long-term best friend. Allison rapped impatiently at his door until he opened it. </p>
<p>“This?” he said in surprise, looking at the Alexander McQueen sweater in Allison’s hand. “I know who owns this!”</p>
<p>“Tell me,” Allison demanded. Kevin smacked her arm. “Fine. Tell<em> us.</em>” </p>
<p>“Hmm.” Matt considered it for a long time. Finally, he said, “I’ll tell you, but only if you let me in on the pot. Split your winnings with me.”</p>
<p>Allison opened her mouth to retort something, but just as quickly closed it. Yesterday the bet on Neil’s ‘friend with benefits’ had increased to nearly six hundred dollars. Whoever found out who it was would win a small fortune. Splitting that with just Kevin was bearable, but splitting her prize <em> three </em>ways would be brutal. If they figured it out, though…</p>
<p>“Fine,” Allison said, frustrated. “Just tell me who owns it.” </p>
<p>“One moment,” Matt said. “I’ll be back.”</p>
<p>He grabbed the sweater from Allison’s arms, closed and locked the door behind him, and then immediately turned to leave. Allison stared at him as he vanished down the dorm corridor</p>
<p>“First Kevin, then Matt?” Allison complained. “Is <em> anyone </em>going to finish their stories around here?” </p>
<hr/>
<p>Matt was heading to the local, on-campus coffee shop called Sweetie’s. It was a late afternoon in the middle of winter, so hopefully it would be mostly empty. One of his old friends was a barista there, and while they hadn’t spoken in a few weeks, Matt hoped that he still remembered him enough to grant him a favor. He carefully tucked the black sweater under his jacket as he pushed through the door. </p>
<p>“Roland!” Matt exclaimed, seeing his friend behind the counter, and cut the entire line. “Hey!”</p>
<p>Roland grinned and ignored the line queuing up behind him. “Matt! It’s been a while. How are you?”</p>
<p>“Great, good, bad, whatever,” Matt said in a rush. “Here— is this yours?”</p>
<p>He thrust the sweater towards Roland. Matt was about ninety-seven percent certain that he had the right person. He knew that Roland and Neil went way back— at least, to the beginning of Neil’s freshman year— and Roland was the only person Matt knew who had a similar McQueen sweater. He honestly couldn’t see Roland and Neil ever working out together, but on the off chance, right?</p>
<p>Roland looked down at the sweater curiously. He shrugged and opened his coat to reveal the exact same sweater. “Sorry, but you’ve got the wrong person.”</p>
<p>“Darn,” Matt sighed. Roland grimaced apologetically. “Do you know who does own it?”</p>
<p>Roland paused for a moment. “Yes,” he admitted. “But they would kill me for mentioning it, and I’d rather stay alive.” </p>
<p>Matt facepalmed. “If I give you twenty dollars, would you tell me?”</p>
<p>Roland considered it, and then said, “Make it two hundred and I’ll consider.”</p>
<p>“Absolutely not,” Matt said, horrified. “I don’t even have twenty dollars to spare. I was bluffing.”</p>
<p>Roland gave an expansive shrug. “Good luck on your witch hunt, then.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Matt said dejectedly. </p>
<p>“Now move,” Roland said, not unkindly. “I have a whole line of angry customers to deal with.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Turns out I was wrong,” Matt sighed. “So we’re back to square one.”</p>
<p>Allison swore under her breath. Kevin slumped against the sofa. The unclaimed black sweater was sprawled over the sofa arm. Matt’s lead had gone nowhere, and Allison was seriously beginning to consider asking everyone on campus if they owned it. </p>
<p>The rudest thing was that it was <em>McQueen</em>— Allison would have certainly noticed if a designer sweater she owned had gone missing. Whoever owned this sweater should have more respect for high quality clothes. </p>
<p>“Maybe…” Kevin started, with uncertainty.</p>
<p>“Maybe what?” Allison said. “We have zero leads except for that stupid black sweater.”</p>
<p>“We could ask the RA who’s been in and out of the hall,” Matt started, but Allison waved a hand to cut him off.</p>
<p>“You think they’re going to remember a random person a month ago? Unlikely.” </p>
<p>“I am out of ideas,” Matt said. </p>
<p>“We’ve tried <em> one </em>idea.”</p>
<p>“I had very few ideas in the first place!”</p>
<p>“Ugh!” Allison threw her hands in the air. “You two are so unhelpful.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Kevin sighed. “We’re all out of ideas. Let’s just call it a day.”</p>
<p>“Operation Black Sweater is disbanded for tonight,” Matt said. </p>
<p>Allison put her head in her hands. “You two are the worst.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The clock had just hit midnight when Allison heard someone creep into the kitchen, stepping as silently as possible. She heard footsteps walk into the kitchen, pause for a moment, open a creaky cabinet quietly. Allison frowned and slid out of bed. </p>
<p>
  <em> What if... </em>
</p>
<p>She flicked the lights on dramatically, and Neil froze like a deer in headlights, one hand on the refrigerator door. His hair was rumpled and messy— pretty obvious sex hair, in Allison’s expert opinion, but that was neither here nor there— and the shirt he was wearing was certainly not his own. It boasted a band Neil had definitely never heard of.</p>
<p>“So,” she declared. “Where have you been?”</p>
<p>Neil’s shoulders tensed and he narrowed his eyes. “What are you, my mom?”</p>
<p>Allison hummed. “I’m just waiting for you to tell me who you’re hooking up with.” She gestured to his whole appearance and raised her eyebrows. </p>
<p>Neil looked down at himself and self consciously smoothed his hair down. “No one,” he insisted clumsily. Allison sighed. </p>
<p>“Oh, come on,” she said impatiently, “You’ve obviously just been out.” </p>
<p>“So what if I have?” Neil wrenched open the fridge, grabbed something inside, and then shut it with a touch of frustration. “You’re not entitled to every second of my life.”</p>
<p>Allison opened her mouth and then abruptly closed it. Neil didn’t sound genuinely upset, but Allison knew what it felt like to be mocked in moments of weakness. She didn’t want to accidentally hurt or offend Neil; nothing would make her purposely damage one of the best friendships of her life. </p>
<p>“I’ll stop pushing,” she said eventually. “If you want me to.”</p>
<p>Neil braced his forearms on the counter. “I’m not upset, Alli.” </p>
<p>Relief flooded through Allison. She hadn’t realized that she was so tense about it until that moment. </p>
<p>Then, the barest flicker of a smile crossed Neil’s face. “And it’s fun to keep you guys guessing.”</p>
<p>Allison gasped, scandalized. “You asshole.” </p>
<p>Neil shrugged. “You guys are my best friends. You should’ve known what you were getting into.”</p>
<p>“You can’t hide him from us forever,” Allison proclaimed. “Sooner or later we’re going to find out.”</p>
<p>“You can try,” Neil said nonchalantly, already turning to leave. “Good luck.” </p>
<p>Allison glared after him. She was secretly relieved that Neil wasn’t upset with her or Kevin or Matt, but that relief came with an invigorated determination. She was going to find out who Neil was hooking up with. It was inevitable. Neil didn’t know what he was getting into. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Allison was rudely woken up two hours before her alarm was set to go off. Strident voices from the kitchen filtered through the thin walls of her bedroom. She had that awful, groggy feeling that came from not sleeping enough; she felt it like thick fog throughout her body. She fumbled in her bedside drawer for aspirin and swallowed two pills dry. </p>
<p>Allison scowled. It was barely eight AM on a Saturday morning and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with whoever Kevin had dragged over. <em> God. </em>She regretted ever going to ask him for help. It was likely one of the worst mistakes of her life. </p>
<p>She made her way out into the kitchen, only stumbling slightly, and stopped dead when she saw who was in it. </p>
<p>“Morning,” Andrew Minyard said, stone faced, drinking Allison’s extremely fancy, extremely expensive coffee blend, while Kevin looked ready to murder someone. Matt was also there, seemingly half asleep over the kitchen counter. Evidently, it was early for everyone. </p>
<p>Allison scowled and pointed towards Andrew. “Who let this bastard in?”</p>
<p>“That’s not very nice,” Andrew said. </p>
<p>Allison curled her lip and raised up her middle finger. Andrew returned the gesture. </p>
<p>“I did,” Kevin said, sounding exhausted. “I regret it.”</p>
<p>Matt groaned. “Do you two ever shut up?”</p>
<p>“No,” Andrew said. “I wish he did.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” Kevin said, with feeling. “Andrew, come on. Help us. It’ll be worth it.” </p>
<p>“What?” Allison hissed, and jabbed Kevin with her finger. Kevin winced. “We’re not letting that monster in on the bet.”</p>
<p>“I can hear you,” Minyard said, examining his nails. </p>
<p>“He knows Neil too, they’re lab partners,” Kevin pleaded. “Matt already agreed, so Andrew, why won’t you—”</p>
<p>“Nope,” Andrew said dismissively. Kevin opened his mouth in shock, looking unbelievably offended. Allison was reluctantly impressed. </p>
<p>Contrary to popular belief, Allison actually somewhat tolerated Andrew Minyard. They both had great taste in fashion, namely high quality designer brands, and they both liked shit-talking other people. Both of them hated Kevin and never spoke to him unless it was a hundred percent necessary. Andrew was an absolute asshole and the last person Allison wanted to see this early in the morning, but she could deal with him most of the time. </p>
<p>“Kevin has been trying to reason with him for hours,” Matt explained, sitting up. “It hasn’t worked.” </p>
<p>“Fuck you,” Andrew said politely, and poured himself another cup of Allison’s precious coffee. He then absolutely ruined it by using so much vanilla creamer that the coffee was closer to milk than anything else, and took a long sip. “Am I free to go now?”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Kevin grumbled. “You’re useless, you know that?”</p>
<p>Andrew smiled dryly. “Thanks, Kevin. I’m aware.” </p>
<p>He took another sip of coffee, and poured the remainder down the sink. Allison rolled her eyes. It was needlessly dramatic, which was very typical of Andrew. </p>
<p>“Well,” Andrew said, “I’ll be on my way. Kevin, if you need me, no you don’t.” He turned to head out, but then stopped abruptly and frowned.</p>
<p>“Is that mine?” Andrew crossed the room to where the black sweater was thrown over the sofa arm. He picked it up, examined it, and folded it over his arm. “I’ve been looking for this for a month.” </p>
<p>Allison’s jaw dropped. Kevin gawked at him. Matt stared at the sweater for a moment before his eyes widened in shocked realization.</p>
<p>Andrew looked between the three of them slowly, then smirked and tapped two fingers to his temple before leaving. </p>
<p>“No way,” Allison breathed.</p>
<p>“Holy shit,” Matt exclaimed. </p>
<p>“Andrew Minyard?” Kevin said, dumbfounded. “Seriously?” </p>
<p><em> Oh my god. </em> Allison’s brain felt as if it were stuck in slow motion. Neil Josten, her best friend, dating… Andrew Minyard? The resident nightmare of campus? Impossible to get along with? Had famously once argued with Kevin so hard that he had cried? <em> Dating Neil Josten?  </em></p>
<p>Matt gaped at the closed door like it would give him any answers. He turned to Kevin in shock. </p>
<p>“Didn’t he once set all the clocks in your dorm room for six hours behind so you missed all your classes?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Kevin said glumly. “None of my professors believed me.”</p>
<p>“And is it true he stole all the clothes in your dorm room the night before your big date with Thea?”</p>
<p>“Also yes,” Kevin said.</p>
<p>“Was he also the one who showed up to your Exy game only to pass around signs that said <em> Kevin sucks </em>?”</p>
<p>“That’s the one,” Kevin confirmed. </p>
<p>“Wow,” Allison said breathlessly, mind still reeling. “He and Neil are a match made in heaven.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>By the time Andrew exited the dorm hall, Neil was already waiting outside, sitting on the hood of the Maserati. Andrew unlocked it and tossed his ridiculously expensive sweater in the backseat. Neil slid in the passenger seat right after him. </p>
<p>“You have a key,” Andrew said. It was true; about two weeks ago, once they had hit their unofficial six month mark, he had given Neil the second key to his Maserati. Neil hummed in response and said nothing. After a moment, he glanced back up at his dorm window and frowned. </p>
<p>“You got your sweater back,” Neil noted.</p>
<p>Andrew glanced back at it. “I guess they know now.”</p>
<p>“Do you mind?” Neil said. His voice was soft. </p>
<p>Andrew considered it; a few years ago, he most definitely would have minded. Today, though…</p>
<p>“No,” he said. “At least now you don’t have to hide anything.” </p>
<p>“I know,” Neil sighed in relief. “Allison is going to lose her mind.” </p>
<p>Andrew cast him a sideways look, but didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Neil rolled down the window just enough to feel the cool summer breeze, rested his open hand across the console, and smiled slightly when Andrew linked his fingers through his. </p>
<p>Andrew took another glance over and accused, “You had fun with this.” </p>
<p>Neil laughed, bright as a bell, and squeezed Andrew’s hand. “Oh my God. <em> So </em>much. You have no idea.”</p>
<p>“I think I have some idea,” Andrew muttered. </p>
<p>“Kevin’s blood pressure must be so high,” Neil said gleefully. “I’m surprised he hasn’t had a heart attack. Oh, I wish I’d seen their faces. How shocked was Alli? Was she breathing?”</p>
<p>“Unfortunately, yes,” Andrew sighed. “One of them is going to shovel talk me in a few days, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be praying for you,” Neil said dryly. </p>
<p>Andrew rolled his eyes. “Thank you. I hope you’re satisfied with this.”</p>
<p>Neil grinned again, and leaned over the console to kiss Andrew’s cheek. “Yeah. I’m satisfied.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>if you enjoyed please leave kudos or comments, they really make my day &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>